What Kind of Edit?

So what is it I do for a writer?

Nothing. I do it for the reader. That is the writer’s ultimate client. Sure, they have to consider bookstores, distributors, agents, and acquiring editors, but whether the author is writing independently or going traditional, my job is to get them closer to the reader. A publisher’s copy editor might have a whole new round of red ink after I’ve worked on it. That’s to be expected. I recently edited a book for Down & Books I did not know was a rerelease. (I also did not realize the author was from the UK making a slight adaptation for a US audience. That’s another topic.) So I treated it as a new book, a little caught off guard by references to recent events. As it turns out, the book was not only a best seller fourteen years ago, but it won awards. So, did I disrespect the previous editor?

The average book is about 80,000-90,000 words. That’s a lot of words. A short novella can go as low as 20,000, as my most recent project did. There, a writer with some skill in self-editing can get most of the glitches that pop up in every manuscript.

But what does a writer need?

I do three kinds of edits, though one is not technically editing and not something I offer as part of Reaper Edits. I do developmental, copy editing (a blanket term that can mean line editing, actual copy editing, and scene editing), and beta reading.

Developmental Editing

If you’ve ever been through one of these, and I have, you know they can be absolutely brutal. They take a long time and should either include a copy edit or a referral to someone who copy edits. I get referrals quite often from a developmental editor. Many of them call themselves “story coaches,” and that’s pretty accurate.

The old saw says to “Kill your darlings,” and every major writer from Hemingway to King says that. Douglas Adams would have you destroy the space-time continuum killing them, but I’ll save that for my author blog. Developmental editing is where that happens. That scene you thought was hilarious? Or an emotional tour-de-force? Yeah, the reader’s probably going to lay down your book or delete from Kindle and move on to something else. It’s not that these scenes aren’t important. It’s that they may have served their purpose, which is to allow the author to get into the characters’ heads. They now know something they didn’t know.

But it’s more than that. Scene shuffling to improve flow. Keeping character names consistent, as well as their voices. Grandma Burns might be a foul-mouthed old lady, but unless the story requires it, she’s not going to suddenly sound like Ian McKellan reading the Magna Carta to a roomful of kindergartners. Steve had better not become Gwendolyn, not without an operation or some gender identity issues the reader’s going to want to know about. Otherwise, the reader will ask, “Who is this? And why is she messing with Steve’s stuff?”

Many editors brag they cut and cut and cut. Too many, if you ask me. Yes, you need to trim the fat on your story, but bragging about cuts basically says, “It’s about the editor, not the writer, not the reader.” And a dev edit may also add material. How about a chapter to explain something? How about expanding that scene to show instead of tell? Maybe a recap (without hitting us over the head with it) of earlier events or even previous entries in a series? These are things a developmental editor looks for.

Do you need a developmental edit? I have an editor friend who swears every story needs a dev edit. It’s the old saw of “Well, I have a hammer, so it must be a nail.” At the same time, his writers are pleased with him and his colleagues. So, who needs a dev edit?

Is it a new type of story for you? Are you an inexperienced writer, especially one who wants to traditionally publish? Also, it’s 2024. You may want to do a sensitivity check. As an author, I’ve generally had good beta readers point out where things went over a line. Remember, it’s your story, but you have to eventually find an audience. Also, an editor versed in the genre can steer you toward audience expectations, even if you plan to subvert them. You need to know what expectations you are subverting and why, as well as what they won’t tolerate.

And a dev editor can help you find your own voice. It’s a lot of work. It can be ego bruising. I had one potential client send me three abusive emails when I declined to rework his manuscript. Editors are not there to pat you on the head for your genius. (Except mine. I’m a friggin’ god! Aaaaand my wife is rolling her eyes at me.) They’re there to make you better, and they don’t have a stake in the story. But it’s worth the effort if that masterpiece you finished three months ago suddenly looks like an episode of Hoarders.

Copy Editing

Copy edits involving trimming and streamlining the prose, getting rid of repeated words, and minimizing passive voice. This is what I do. So what do I do?

First, I use a tool to look for inconsistencies in spelling, abbreviations, capitalization. Those are quick hits. Then I do what’s called a crutch word check. Every editor is different. One editor, whom I consider the queen of copy editors, has a lengthy list of words she does not want to see in a manuscript. And the list grows. Some look for adverbs, but most writers these days are so adverb-averse that I hardly see them. I start with three words: Very, suddenly, and just. Very and just are two of the most overused words in manuscript. They just annoy me very, very much. Since I utilize track changes in Word, I can go through and put back instances I struck out when I read them in context. Suddenly is a word which must be driven out of a manuscript like snakes out of Ireland. (Yes, I know. That’s a myth. St. Pat had good marketing. And probably introduced stout as a replacement for mead. Okay, that’s enough faux Terry Pratchett.) I actually am bummed out when I end up leaving more than one “suddenly” in a manuscript, even in an anthology. It’s usually a useless word, though I find the odd case.

Occasionally, I get an anthology where the senior editor is Michael Bracken, a short story writer and editor I’ve known for many years now. As an editor, Michael’s pet peeve is “got.” So, the last antho he put together, I decided he’s the client. (Actually, his publisher was the client, but I ask Michael questions as I work.) I thought I’d do him a solid and go after got. One story had it every other line in dialog, and the writer of that particular short made it work. I gave up. So, Michael, if you’re reading this, I tried. (It happens.)

After that, with another tool, a go through the manuscript line-by-line looking for passive voice, repeated words, misuse of “that” (when separating clauses. You usually don’t need it.), sensitivity checks (not as common as social media would have you believe), and my personal pet peeve, the run-on sentence. Boy, do we all write a lot of run-on sentences. I’ve occasionally gotten (Sorry, Michael) a “Yikes!” back from an author. But as a writer, I can sympathetically respond, “I know, right?” (Works best if you read that in the voice of Bruce from Family Guy.)

If a sentence can’t be reworked without rewriting it, I flag it in the comments with an explanation. If it needs rewritten, the writer is the best judge of that. Also, I don’t flag every instance of passive voice. Sometimes, active just sounds stupid, especially in description. She may have pouty lips, but the reader’s likely to throw the book across the room if her lips pout.

Is/was is not the writer’s buddy. Neither is “started/began to…” when the action is not interrupted or doesn’t intensify. Water may start to boil, but he should walk toward the door, not begin to walk toward the door. Unless she stops him.

Drive-ups: I’m probably the only editor who calls it that, but it’s an old concept. If you spend a lot of time describing your character’s habit of grabbing wallet, keys, and phone, getting in the car, starting the car, and pulling the car out of the driveway/parking spot, I am so going to flag that. They reader does not care. I also get the impulse to do that. I came up with the term after hearing Lee Goldberg, an author and television writer since the 1980s, describe a producer’s need for “drive ups.” The producer was also the star of the show and demanded each scene start with his character getting out of the car, walking up to the door, and knocking on it. This actor came from pro football and didn’t like having to memorize a lot of lines. So he would inevitably ask, “Where are the drive-ups? The walk-ups?” (I also noticed that show improved when Lee got promoted on the staff.)

Beta Reading

Beta reads. The poor man’s edits. Usually done for trade between writers. A finished story should have at least one beta read. I want four, but I have regulars who will do it for me. There are no rules for beta reading. One will tell you, “It’s good” or “It sucks.” If that’s the end of it, it’s a waste of time. Hopefully that beta reader tells you at least why. Most will make notes. Some will copy edit and find typos earlier edits missed. (Remember that reissue I did? And that originally came out through a major publisher.)

While there are some beta reading services, and one I know of fills out a standard questionnaire, usually, they’re free. Which means it’s a volunteer effort. The reader might infuriate the writer, but remember, you asked. Occasionally, you get a dud. For me, one did not, apparently, ever see The Martian or watch an episode of the many Star Treks with their captain’s/personal logs. Also, I think they were trying to backdoor sell me a dev edit. (Editors, don’t do that. It’s hard enough to market what we do without someone being an overbearing ass about it.) We parted ways, though I did get a suggestion that became a core part of one of my series characters. I have a cadre of three readers who are good about asking me if I’m out of my mind? Or flagging where I assumed the reader knew about this minor event mentioned in chapter 5 from a much earlier book in the series. Or just because one character is a bigoted scumbag does not mean I have to use his loveless language. Beta readers can help with or without an editor. We’re all human. And every edit can cause or reveal more glitches to be fixed. We all want to be perfect, but I even found a glaring problem in a Lawrence Block novel. And I learned to write from his books on writing.